


What's In A Name (Winter's Bone)

by mockingjaybee



Series: Seasons Bring Change [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes as Captain America, Christmas, Christmas fic, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Torture, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, SO ANGST, Some Fluff, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers as the Winter Soldier, Steve Rogers-centric, Tony Stark Has A Heart, how did that happen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 08:56:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8884807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mockingjaybee/pseuds/mockingjaybee
Summary: Steve Roger's is dead, they made sure of that. He can't ever be that person again, but he isn't the Asset either, not after seeing the man on the bridge. So who is he?





	

**Author's Note:**

> hello everyone! i started on this a couple of months ago, i love Winter Soldier! Steve fics, and just, had an idea. this is the first part of a series of four. i'm very nervous about this, and i hope you guys like it! 
> 
> beta-ed by @hideme on AO3 and honestly thank you so very much! if there are any mistakes they are mine, not theirs, i promise!

He was nothing, he was the Asset, and he was fine with this. He was nameless for decades, and he was fine with that, he prefered it. He was old, he knew that, and it made those that would try to fight him scared when they weren’t able to get a name from him. Later, he was told he was told he would be called the Winter Soldier. 

He liked that. It was better than the Asset, it was a name that was whispered behind his back when he was taken out of his chamber, frozen in time. It was the name that induced fear in his (their) enemies. It was the name that he liked the most, but his new handler seemed to like the Asset more. He could handle that, but call himself the Winter Soldier. 

Until he saw the man on the bridge, who called him _Steve_. He was not Steve, and never would be that name again. _Steve_ was dead, Hydra and the Red Room had made sure of that, repeatedly, through many forms of torture, they made sure that he would never use that name ever again. Sexual, he thinks, was the worst. Being fucked into unlubed, and cut anytime he was asked what his name was, and he was dumb enough to say “Steve Rogers,” or if he was feeling very brave, “Captain America,” until he was crying, begging to be called, to be told who he was, because he couldn’t take it anymore. Memories were tricky things, he was quickly learning; Something as simple as a name triggered so many it scared him, and the Winter Soldier didn’t get scared. The idea of fear was so foreign to him. This is what came to him as he waited in the chair to report.

Steve Rogers was dead, it was that simple. But, the man on bridge was someone he did know from before, and he needed to learn about them. He saved him from the river after nearly killing him. He was so upset and scared when this Bucky person kept on telling him what his name truly was, Steven Grant Rogers. And, then, Bucky became his mission again. Until he wasn’t, until he reminded him of a moment in time that he couldn’t place, but he could never forget either. So he saved Bucky, because he didn’t want to lose him yet. But, he couldn’t stay either. 

He went to the museum, to the Smithsonian American History Museum, and saw that at some point in time, he was Captain America. That he was the original super soldier, but, sadly, fell from a train.

_”I had him on the ropes.”_

_“I know you did.”_

 

Seeing Bucky’s face reaching for him, and then falling, falling forever, and blacking out from it. Waking in the snow, nothing but pain, never ending pain, and cold so deep that he would never know what being warm was again. Blacking back out, and waking in a room, with Zola in front of him, calling him the new Fist of Hydra, staring at his arm that was now metal, before reaching out for someone’s throat, crushing it, and then nothingness.

He left the museum shortly after that, not wanting to remember anymore, but seeing that Bucky had crashed a plane two days later, into ice, and waking up seventy years later. He was now Captain America, which was good, he could keep it. 

They were, however, both men out of time, in some way or another. 

The Winter Soldier didn’t want to find all the Hydra bases and attack them, he knew what they could do to him, the words, the fucking _words_ they could use to trigger him into doing anything they wanted. He wouldn’t be a puppet for anyone ever again, no, he briefly remembers hearing his dead handler talk about this group called The Avengers, and taking them out, so he assumes they will be the ones to clear this up, well, as best they could. Until then he was going to start looking online for things about himself. 

It’s been three days since he learned his old name, and one since being at the museum, and now he was sitting in a motel room with a cheap stolen computer, wishing he had never looked up any of the files, and never had gone to the museum. He didn’t want to look into anything else the Widow had put out about him in the info dump, he needed to sleep. He needed to think. 

Sleep didn’t come easy. He dreamt of what happened in the helicarrier, of how Bucky had forced him to remember, by a simple phrase. 

_”You’re my mission. You’re! My! Mission!” Metal connecting to the man’s face over and over, breaking bone, but something stopped him, fist raised, he looked down, searching._

_“Then finish it, ‘cause I’m with ya, ‘till the end of the line.” The man nearly whispered, hope creeping in, and something else, as if he knew what he fate was, and accepted it, hoped for the end._

_And then Captain America was falling.._

 

No, it would take awhile for sleep to finally find him, and when it finally did, it brought nightmares with it. It was from before again, this time it had him being the small, skinny kid, and Bucky looking for more carefree. Not being able to breathe, or run, or do _anything_. It unnerves him, remembering these things, the memories of a dead man. He hates them, because they make him feel as well. The Winter Soldier does not have emotions, and yet, he can’t help them overwhelming him, changing him, making him more human by the hour. 

When he does sleep, he dreams in tones of red. Of bright red, the colour of fresh blood after slicing a man’s throat open, of dark red that’s almost brown of dried old blood, that covers him, after returning from a mission, before he is hosed off. The bright red is what the new memories are, of killing a man named Howard and his wife, and shooting out a camera as to hide what he has done. The dark red is of the old ones, of Brooklyn, of long talks with //Bucky, being held and kissing him. Of being touched so softly it’s almost like a ghost of fingertips on his collarbone. Soft moans, because they couldn’t be heard, they had to be quiet. The soft pants in his ear, loving words while he feels he is being torn apart and but back together by Bucky’s hands, his mouth, his very soul. 

He wakes up from those dreams painfully hard, but unwilling to touch himself. He doesn’t trust himself to be that vulnerable yet, but he _aches_ for it, for those soft whispers, and bruising grips on his hips, of feeling completely full and being truly, utterly blissful, at peace with the world and not caring if he died at that exact moment. 

The Winter Soldier believed that what being in love must be like, and then wonders how he ever even thought of that love was for humans, not weapons. But, a small part of him wanted to be human again, it seems. Not only for himself, but for the other man as well. For Bucky. 

 

\-------

 

Time doesn’t seem to be the same for him anymore, when he finally looks at a calendar, Winter sees that is has been six months since it happened. He still won’t go by the name Steve, he will never be able to be that man again. He’s fine with that. 

He started keeping a journal and writing down little things here and there, so he could keep track of his memories. He draws in it, well, now it’s _them_ as well, many different things. But, mostly Bucky. He has a total of twelve journals that are full of newspaper clippings, of pictures. His personal favorite drawing he has done was oddly, of the cryochamber. When he saw that, after mission, he knew at the very least, it meant rest, that the torture had stopped for now, and he could just, be alone for an unknown amount of time. It was oddly like going home, he thought. He’s stayed in the DC area, because it was very easy to blend in. He kept his hair long, but did shave. He spent time figuring out what to wear to be able to blend in and the trousers people wear today are so tight it’s unreal, but he sort of likes them. He was able to keep his boots, long sleeved shirts that hide his metal arm, putting a flannel on top, and made sure he always wore gloves. It’s awkward, sure, but no one looks at him twice for awhile. 

He knows Bucky and the winged man are looking for them, and they have nearly caught him several times, but he isn’t ready yet, but will be sooner rather than later. He knows they have been all over the world taking out the Hydra bases, and for that he is grateful. He isn’t done fighting, he knows he never will be, because truthfully, he loves to fight, but he knows he needs to find out who he is first. 

Going through the data the Widow had put on the internet was hard, seeing everything they had done to him, what they had made him do was awful. He’s killed so many people, but he knows it wasn’t really him. That part of him of wanting to do what’s right is coming back, quicker, he thinks, than it should be. Winter assumes it’s because of the serum that he is recovering so fast, but he also knows that is anyone said the trigger words, he’d be fucked. 

After going through all the files, he chose to go by the name Winter, it’s a compromise, one he likes. He isn’t Steve, but he isn’t the Soldier or the Asset anymore either. He wants to try to fix the world he helped create, but he doesn’t know how to just yet. 

Mostly, he just misses Bucky. He knows he is quite attractive, he gets women and men coming up to him all the time, but he’s only ever wanted two people in his very long life, and that’s not going to change now just because he’s breathtakingly lonely. He was surprised when he remembered what the word meant, and to know that’s what he had been feeling for long that he nearly cried, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t allow himself to cry, not because he doesn’t want too, but because he doesn’t think he deserves to feel sorry for himself. 

 

Two days before Christmas Winter thought it was time to go to Bucky. He weighed his options, and figured the mess in his head would still take more time, but he couldn’t stand to be lonely anymore, no matter how selfish of a thought that was. He doesn’t think he would hurt the man, mostly because, he doesn’t feel the need to hurt anyone except the ones who did this to him. He packs up his things in his motel room, a large duffel bag with two pairs of jeans, a few shirts, other random clothes, and all his journals, and head to New York, to Avengers Tower. 

It takes him six hours to get there by train. Winter has money, he was able to hack some Hydra accounts before they were all cleaned out, because he truly did not want to steal from anyone, and he stands across the street from the tower, watching, waiting. 

He’s _scared_. He’s so scared, of so much, he’s frozen to the spot. He’s cold, it’s snowing, he doesn’t have a proper coat, but he is used to the cold, however. Winter can see all the cameras around the front of the Tower, so he knows he’s has been spotted, but he can’t force himself to move yet either. He oddly hopes that someone will come out for him, so he doesn’t have to chance being treated as hostile, because he doesn’t know how he would react to that. 

Two hours after he arrives, a man that looks so much like Howard comes out, _Tony_ he thinks, also known as Iron Man. He doesn’t move, worried that this could become a fight, if Tony knows what he did to his parents. Tony, however, looks rather bored walking up to him, and comes to a stop just inches in front of his face, looking him up and down. 

“Do you ever plan on coming inside? Do you want to freeze out here, because I know you are used to be frozen, I think it’ll really upset Bucky if he has to just watch you anymore,” Tony asks quietly, but seemingly amused as well. 

Winter just nods, and points, not trusting himself to speak just yet. 

“Alright, but here’s the deal,” Tony’s voice now hard and cold as steel, “You have to be checked for weapons, and answer a few questions. You should know, I read your files, all of them, I know what you did to my parents. I know Hydra made you, and that you didn’t have a choice, but don’t think for one second I will ever forgive you for killing my mother, understood?” 

He gulps, unsure of what to say, if there is anything he can say, really, so he just nods curtly. 

“Good. Follow me please. Also, why do you dress like a goddamn hipster?” Tony’s tone is light again, giving Winter whiplash, not being able to follow the other man’s emotions. 

He doesn’t answer, Tony just sighs, and walks them into the tower. All Winter wants to do is see Bucky, but he knows that isn’t going to happen yet, and maybe not for awhile. He enters, looking for all exits and camera, mapping a way out incase things go sideways, when he notices Tony watching him carefully. They enter the elevator, and it’s still just him and Tony, when a voice from nowhere says, “Sir, Mr. Barnes is begging to see Mr. Rogers now.”

“No,” Winter says, speaking for the first time, “Not yet, and that’s not my name.”

Tony huffs, “JARVIS, remind him on what we agreed on, alright? Tell him it really shouldn’t take that long.” 

“Yes sir.”

Tony looks him with one eyebrows raised, “What do you mean that’s not your name? You name is Steve Rogers.”

He’s shaking his head almost violently, but his voice is a whisper, “No, Steve is dead, and has been since falling off the train. I’m Winter.” He doesn’t explain past that, he doesn’t want to explain this to anyone but Bucky. 

Tony keeps his eyebrow raised, but doesn’t say anything. 

They go up thirty floors, and when the doors open, it’s a lab, and Winter can’t breathe, his vision blurs, oh God _they are going to make him the Soldier again, no, please no_ , he feels a hand on his shoulder, and he moves quickly, quickly putting the person again the wall of the elevator, hand almost crushing the man’s throat, when he see’s that it’s Tony, not, not _them_ , and drops him quickly, backing up into a corner, covering his head with his hands, breathing deep, trying to calm down, chanting out, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Tony coughs, and says hoarsely, “Please, follow me inside, and try not to kill me. I’m trying to help you. I can get out the fucking trigger words, which I should have said on the way up, but you _did_ sort of shock me with the whole _Steve’s not my name anymore_ thing.” 

Steve looks up, not moving, not believing what he just heard. He stands slowly, and just walks calmly inside the lab, looking around. He doesn’t trust his voice just yet, still worried this isn’t real. 

“It’s ..going to be painful, to be honest, yeah I really should have talked to you about this before coming up here,” Tony says quickly, and Winter is back to breathing harshly through his nose, “Listen, I sort of have to use shock again, but it’s to fix the neuro-pathways they created when created the trigger words for you. After I read the Hydra files, and I find them, Bruce and I created a program, in which you brain recalibrates itself after hearing the words. It won’t be easy, but it will be fast.”

“Why?” Is all Winter can think to say. Tony just stares at him, “Why would you do this for me, after what I did to you, to all of them?”

“What they did to you was evil, and I can fix it. It wasn’t right, for you, for the world, and I’m suppose to Avenge, right? So this is me, Avenging a decades old wrong. It’s honestly that simple.” 

Winter thinks, and just looks at Tony. The man is lying, he can tell. “You’re lying, but alright. But there are more than just .. those. Other control words.” 

“Yes, I know. All of them were in the files. Plus Natasha provided a list of words The Red Room used. We think we covered all of them.” Tony says almost proudly. 

Winter nods, “Then fine, let’s start.” He walks deeper into the lab, and sees the Chair. His heart stops, but he forces himself to go to it, and sit. 

“This should take at most five minutes. You will not remember it, but you will not lose any memories either, plus, we have a feeling this is gonna make you pass the fuck out for the night. Someone will move you into what will be your room. When you wake up, you can see him.”

He doesn’t talk anymore, he just closes his eyes, and feels something against his lips, something of a bite guard, and he briefly wonders why this can’t be done in his sleep, but he figures Stark has his reasons. Payback, maybe. Winter can certainly understand that, even if he doesn’t like it. 

Winter hears a count down, the same voice from earlier, a soft British accent, and then nothing but pain. He doesn’t fight it when he feels himself slipping into unconsciousness.

He wakes in a bed that’s far too soft, in a room that’s dark, but with his sight he can see it’s in soft greys and blues, he doesn’t sit up, he just takes a deep breathe, feeling a lingering deep pain in his right temple, and he hears his arm whirl softly. 

“Steve?” Bucky. Bucky’s here. 

He sits up slowly, feeling vaguely, sick, but he just shakes his head, “I’m not Steve.”

Bucky gives him a sharp look, “Tony said you said that, but listen you _are_ Steven Grant,”

“No!” He says forcefully, “Steve died. They killed him, he was broken, and when they remade him, the made him into The Asset, and then later the Winter Soldier. I will _never_ be Steve again. They made sure of that. They broke me. I have all those memories, of Before and After, but I’m _Winter_.” He can’t hide the rage in his voice that nearly cracks from disuse, but he needs Bucky too understand this now.

Bucky’s crying, shaking his own head, “No, you aren’t, you’re Stevie, _my_ Stevie.”

Winter’s up in a flash, kneeling in front of Bucky, taking his hands, forcing Bucky to look him in the eye, “No, not anymore. I can’t be him again, not after everything they’ve done to me, hell not after everything I’ve done. Do you want to know what they did to me when I would scream at them that I was Steve, not the Asset? Or call myself Captain America? They raped me, they beat me, they would torture me endlessly, and I dealt with it, for years. They would try to burn it out of my brain, but I would heal so fast that I would remember with in days. Finally I gave in, because I couldn’t fight anymore. They still did all of those things, but before they put me in the chamber the first time, I forgot my name, until you reminded me of it. Then, after looking into what I’ve done, I couldn’t use the name again, because that’s not who Steve was, alright? I’m Winter.” He said kindly, but Bucky cried harder. 

Winter truly didn’t know what to do. He wanted to hold Bucky, but he couldn’t, he didn’t understand how to anymore. After decades of being denied touch, the simple act of holding someone’s hands felt like it was too much, but he didn’t let go. After what seemed like forever, Bucky hiccuped, and looked Winter in the eye, and nodded, “I should have looked for you.” 

He shifted his weight, and dropped Bucky’s hand, “No, you shouldn’t have. They would have gotten you as well, and then what about the plane? No, it’s not alright, but you thought I was dead, I would have thought you were dead as well.”

Bucky looked like he wanted to argue, but didn’t, he just nodded. “So what now?”

“I think I would like breakfast, and maybe some clothes.” Winter stood up, and walked back over to the bed. “Where’s my duffel bag?” He asked, panic starting to rise. 

“In the closest, I’ll um, let you get dressed, the kitchen is just down the hall on the right.” And Bucky left without another word. 

Winter got his duffel bag out, and changed quickly, but not bothering to put on his boots, he looked at all his journals, debating on if he should show them to Bucky or not. In the end, he thought it would be a good idea, because he didn’t really want to talk to Bucky about what he had gone through anymore, he didn’t think he could stand knowing he was the reason why Bucky was crying, or in pain. He already hated bringing up why he was Winter now, the memories of what happened to him made him feel weak, and ashamed, even though he knew it wasn’t his fault, that he had done nothing wrong. 

He gathered all the journals, and went to the kitchen, and without saying a word, put them on the table where Bucky was sitting. 

“What’s this?” The brunet asked quietly. 

“My memories.”

Bucky looked up at him sharply, but didn’t say anything. The journals were numbered, and he watched as Bucky picked up the first one, and started to read it. 

Winter grabbed an apple, and sat down as well, watching Bucky’s face. “I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

Bucky gasped, and blinked at him, face softening, “You aren’t now, Winter, you have me.”

Winter nodded, and watched as Bucky went back to reading. He followed Bucky around the apartment the entire day, never taking his eyes of Bucky’s face, wanting to see every single emotion wash over those features. He had missed Bucky so much, that nothing could stop him for getting his fill. He wanted to hold the man, but again, stopped himself. Until Bucky was on journal six, and started crying. Winter looked over where he was at, and he remembered that part, wincing. It was a very early memory from when he was captured, of feeling it when they sawed his arm off, making sure he was awake while they fitted him with the metal one he has now, but passing out part of the way through from pain. 

Just thinking about that makes his arm whine, high pitched, almost as if it’s upset. He doesn’t think about his arm much, it’s just a part of him now, he sometimes feels like he’s always had it, he has had it longer than, well, not having it. He flexing his fingers, and sees Bucky watching him. He extends his arm out to Bucky, inviting him to touch it for himself. Bucky damn near jumps at him, grabbing his hand, and lightly touching it. “It doesn’t hurt,” he tells Bucky, and he sees the brunette nod, but still only pressing softly on the plates, hearing the whine and whirl. 

Bucky lets go too soon for Winter’s taste, so he grabs Bucky’s hand, and just holds on, rubbing the cold metal thumb over Bucky’s knuckles, watching his face, seeing those grey eyes open wide, taking the moment in for what it is. Neither speak, too scared they will break this moment, but neither let go. Bucky goes back to reading the journal and Winter just sits there, either watching Bucky when he hears his friend gasp softly, or just looking out the massive windows, taking New York in all over again. 

He starts to look over the floor, notiing for the first time it was done up for Christmas, and he feel himself smile slightly. The tree in the corner of the living room is massive, twinkling lights everywhere, covered in green and red and gold, a gold star on top. Garlands draped over everything, making the place feel cozy but not overdone. It’s bigger than any Christmas he can remember, Bucky and him didn’t really have the money for a tree or anything, but there would be a couple of stockings up, and advent candles. Winter looks around and spots them, all but the white one lit, and smiles wider. The place even smells like the holidays, evergreen and cedar, bits of nutmeg and clove around, it’s nice Winter thinks. “I like the decorations.”

Bucky huffs out a small laugh, “Really? I think it’s a bit much, but, try telling Tony no. He thinks I could use more of everything.”

Winter just nods, and goes back to looking outside. He knows Bucky is staring at him, but that’s ok, it’s nice, sitting here, a fire going, letting Bucky learn about him. He takes a deep breath, but doesn’t move, wanting Bucky to finish reading that journal. He knows the exact moment Bucky does, because he hears the man sniffle beside him, “Oh, _oh_ Ste - Winter. I. I don’t know what to say,”

Winter just shrugs, frankly, there isn’t much to say. That journal was all about how they broke him, the rest are about missions and rather jumbled thoughts, until the last two that are all about seeing Bucky again, and what happened after. He doesn’t want to talk about those things, he doesn’t think he ever will, and he hopes Bucky can understand that.

“You’re a miracle you know that?” Bucky says, voice cracking a little, “You lived, you kept going, and I have you back. You’re my Christmas miracle.” He feels his friends hand sliding up his shoulder, going to softly grip his neck, before cupping his cheek, and forcing Winter to finally look at him, so he can see that Bucky truly and completely means what he is saying. Winter doesn’t believe in miracles, not anymore at least, even is he may just be the product of one. He should have been dead a thousand times over, but here is is, living and breathing, back with Bucky, 

Winter leans into the touch, closing his eyes, almost nuzzling Bucky’s hand, “I remember what we were before. I know that we loved each other, that we were together, I remember you holding me, making love to me, always being gentle even when I begged for more. Then, I remember that when I got this body, you treated it like I was made of glass at first, but then begged me to fuck you. I remember you being mad that I had feelings for Peggy, but somehow understanding as well,” Winter stops, leaning forward, placing his own metal hand on Bucky’s face, wiping the tears away with his thumb, leaning closer, wanting so much, but trying to stay calm, “‘Till the end of the line, right?”

Bucky chokes out a sob, and leans forward closing the distance between them,kissing Winter like a man starved for it, softly at first, but Winter is done waiting, and nips at Bucky’s plush lower lip, causing the man to moan so Winter can slide his tongue against Bucky’s, moving closer to put his metal hand on Bucky’s neck, tipping his head back, and his other hand in his hair, pulling gently, dragging Bucky into his lap, and feeling the older man go willingly into his lap, straddling him, grind down on Winter’s lap. Winter moans when he feels Bucky’s hands and his chest, squeezing his pecs, up to his neck. Winter breaks the kiss, instead kissing the brunette’s jaw, and sucking on his neck, earning him this lovely high pitched keening sound from Bucky.  


“Ok,” he hears Bucky whisper into his ear, “Ok, I think, I think that’s enough for tonight, alright?” He sits back, and gets off of Winter, standing, but holding both of his hands, “We should take this slow, ok?”

Winter nods, because he does understand. Both have been through a lot, and they can’t just back into what they used to have, and that’s fine, Winter is willing to wait. 

“Come on Miracle, I think we should have some eggnog, and cuddle,” Bucky says brightly. 

Winter nods, and goes to follow Bucky. They have time now, more time they they ever had before. Things will never be the same, and for once, Winter is glad for that. There is a lot he will have to face, but he has Bucky back, and that’s all he ever wanted. He has always been able to face anything, with the love of his life with him, ‘till the end of the line, now and forever. 

Maybe, just maybe, Christmas miracles do happen.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you guys like this! kudos and comments make me squeal in public, and i welcome con-crit! like i said, there is the first part of a series, so, yeah, thanks so much for reading! happy holidays!
> 
> come join me on tumblr @mockingjaybeevicious where i fangirl over steve and bucky and kingsman all the time. i also post sneak peaks of things i am working on. :)


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